


Cataclyst

by Adverant



Category: Gamegrumps - Fandom, Youtube RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Elemental Magic, High Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Magic School, Magic-Users, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11731848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adverant/pseuds/Adverant
Summary: Rating may change.I have no idea what to say about this? They have elemental powers, not all human beings have them, some of them aren't even "technically" human beings. First chapter is short and sweet, and like most of my stories, it's foreshadowing. I'm going to do this in shorter chapters than I usually do (hopefully) because often I get carried away and then I'm too stressed about my word-count quota (being 2,000 words per chapter, minimum) to ACTUALLY write anything. Hopefully this will go smoother.





	Cataclyst

"Remind me," Mark sighed, "why do we come to this bench every year?" He didn't turn his head to gauge the expression of his companion, staring intently towards the ocean ahead. The bench was a simple wooden one, placed at the top of a hill that ended in a cliff, waves crashing against it's face but the grass that grew atop it was soft and vibrant. Every year Mark found himself atop the hill, waiting with a sandwich in his hands and a cold, solemn expression on his face as they watched the waves below. Sometimes the ocean was calm and peaceful, slowly swaying in small lapping waves that swirled around the cliff. Sometimes the water was swift and angry, tossing and crashing against the cliff, crawling up the stone. Violent. It had been violent back then.

Mark shuddered, wrapping his arms tighter around himself and turning to meet his friend's gaze. Jack did not return it, only stared at the ground, pain and conflict warring across his face and in his usually bright eyes. They'd become so dull recently, and Mark would worry if he didn't already know why they were that way, he was sure his eyes had become just as cold. Jack sighed hard, leaning forward to prop himself up with his elbows on his knees, "Because we need to remember him, Mark. It's okay that we live and don't let what happened affect us, but we have to pay him respect- we have to." Mark nodded, though he didn't entirely agree with the sentiment. He looked down to his fingertips, still smooth and slightly malformed from the... incident. He didn't have fingerprints anymore, and the burns that didn't just end at his fingertips gave him a constant reminder of why he was here now.

Jack might have been able to live without it affecting him, Mark had grown used to moving through life in almost robotic motions, often crying when he had a moment to himself. Even then, years later, the suffering he felt for their loss was unnameable, and unmanageable. Mark wasn't sure how he kept going through his days alone, he was sure by now he would succumb and let himself waste away. He also knew if that happened, he'd become exactly what they'd worked so hard to prevent.  _What's wrong with me?_ He held back a sob, the thought causing a lurch in his heart.  _Why am I... why am I this?_ It was a dangerous place to go, a place his mind often wandered after the events there years ago.

 _"I need you to just trust me,"_ he remembered the words, desperate and impatient. What a strange place, a place that evoked such stronger emotions in him than the event itself. He wondered vaguely how Jack was holding up, glancing over to the slightly younger man. He was more physically scarred than Mark was, but he couldn't be sure about the psychological scars. His once vibrant green hair had faded to a near yellow green, it looked dull and dead, a mess as usual. The ripple of smooth, burnt skin edged the left side of his face, under his ear and reached up behind it. The burns extended down the back of his neck, and scars in the shape of fingers around his throat stood out the most. His antlers, thin and twisting, had cracks and were permanently charred black in mottled spots. He couldn't see much more of the burns besides on the back of Jack's hands, but he knew they spanned across his back and ribs as well.

Jack looked fragile in Mark's eyes, small and faded, as if a touch would make him crumble to dust. His skin had become even paler than it was naturally in just a year, he looked sick.  _He probably is sick,_ Mark remarked to himself silently, forgetting himself as he continued to stare. Jack met his gaze and he immediately looked away, a little embarrassed he'd been caught staring. "I know I look like shite, but ye don't need ta stare, Mark." he snapped, a look of guilt crossing his face almost immediately, and Mark could see his eyes water as he went back to staring blankly at the ground. Mark reached down beside the bench to a box he'd carried with him all that way, and sat it on his lap. He could see people lining the beach on either side of the hill, all out of earshot and they were so far below that he couldn't make out any faces. They were all waiting for Mark and Jack, hundreds of them lining the beach as the water warred with itself.

He stood, and held out his hand to Jack, "It's time. We shouldn't make them wait any longer. We shouldn't make  _her_ wait any longer." Jack nodded, taking Mark's hand with hesitance and wincing at Mark's mention of her. They both knew she wouldn't be there, she would probably never have the strength, but they knew she would be watching and waiting. Mark placed the box on the bench and gently removed the lid, lifting a light and spherical paper lantern from the box. It was dark blue, like the night sky, dotted with tiny white constellations. Mark placed his fingers carefully under the lantern, summoning a tiny flame between his fingers to light the lantern. Jack flinched away from the fire, even though it was barely the size of a small candle's flame, and Mark felt a dull ache in his heart. "Come on, Jack," he beckoned gently, holding one side of the lantern and waiting for Jack to take the other side, which he did with strong hesitation.

It was like this every year.

They stepped towards the edge of the cliff and lifted the lantern high. Settled in their hands, the lantern was lifted away by the wind in mere seconds, and from the beach they watched other tiny lights ignite, more lanterns following theirs into the night sky. Mark stared longingly after the lantern, he wished he could take it back. He wished they could take everything back and start again, but he knew it was a childish wish. He could hear Jack sobbing lightly to his right, but he didn't look over or try to comfort his... friend, if Mark could call him that, he knew this would always be beyond comfort. There had been a time when mark feared that Jack might become like  _him,_ remembering the harsh words he'd been only a bystander to hear.  _"How could you do that to me? How could you_ forget _about me?!"_

Mark knew now though that Jack would never be like that, even if that was the way he felt. Jack was never a destructive person, never like  _him..._ never like  _Mark_. In the end, the fact that the two had died together was probably what their idol would have wanted.  _He was such a good man_ _,_ Mark inwardly sighed,  _even in the end he only wanted to make things right._


End file.
